


Weighty Mutation

by orphan_account



Category: Total Drama (Cartoon)
Genre: Comfort Food, F/M, Fetish, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 15:38:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19112665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Extreme weight gain/hyper fat kink fic done on request. After having a bit of a break with Cody, Sierra turns to overeating to sooth her sad feelings, and an undetected mutation converts it all into raw body mass, making for quite a hefty surprise for all.





	Weighty Mutation

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own anything associated with the Total Drama series. This is a work of non-profit, purely for entertainment.

“ _I’m sorry. I need to think things through._ ”

She kept replaying the phrase in her head, over and over, an extremely unhappy soundtrack pinwheeling between her brain cells like a ping-pong ball, and she read his emails again, over and over.

She was good at finding connections. She _thought_ she was, anyway. Cody wasn’t good at hiding intentions or anything like that, and the words felt raw to her eyes; she’d looked at them so much, trying to see bad sub text or something to get more worried about, and her head hurt just _thinking_ about it.

She felt sick.

Sierra stood up. She was a tall woman - her ancestry a complicated web of Cree, Trinidadian, Western African, and Indian folk, at least the way her mom’s genealogies claimed - and nearly seven feet tall of very solid build, at least three hundred pounds of fit fan-lady beef, and with a figure that tended to put people in mind of a _very_ generous hourglass. Usually her enthusiasm bled into her actions, but at the moment, her shoulder-length hair, dyed vibrant shades of violet and magenta, moved with little life as she lurched away from her computer, head down and voice mumbling listlessly to her.

She couldn’t even manage to move in the special sashay she’d worked out to accommodate her particular body type. Ever since the last competition, her hips had gotten much wider; pants were actually something of a problem. Between the problems on the island and the things she had encountered in the military depot with all the alien stuff, Sierra suspected that there should be _some_ kind of mutation, but she hadn’t really noticed anything out of the ordinary, and figured it was nothing.

And now, _this._ It quite drove concerns of potential physical aberration out of mind entirely.

For the purposes of future reference, it may be noted that after years of idolizing over people who routinely nearly died and constantly subjected themselves to humiliation over a money prize that _literally almost no one ever got,_ Sierra had something of a distorted view of ‘normal’. Possibly there were stronger signs here or there, and she wasn’t really equipped to make a note of it.

People work out ‘normal’ by reference to people around them, and in the weeks to come, Sierra kept entirely to herself. This typically has terrible consequences but fortunately Sierra was, even at her most invasive, not a bad sort.

Sierra went downstairs. Her steps hit each step hard, and at the same time, it felt without any real force. She didn’t feel that she _had_ any force in her. It had drained right out and she had left it… somewhere.

She didn’t know where. It was hard to care. Too hard.

She felt very, _very_ tired.

One hundred and sixty eight hours. The minutes dragging by like claws out from her sight, torturously slow. That was how long Cody had been gone.

Her feet, seemingly moving on pure automatic, took her to the kitchen.

_It’s my fault._

She kept going, legs working on clunky, awkward lurches.

_I did it again._

Sierra walked right into a table, pushing it slightly away with force alone. “Ow,” she said listlessly, and kept going.

_It’s my fault, I chased away someone ELSE, I’m no good, I do this to EVERYONE._

Ice cream, whip cream, and various chilly treats were all pulled out, without her apparently thinking about it at all.

Her plump arms loaded down with a tub of ice cream and the other necessary things to construct a sundae, a shoe-sized bowl to put it in. Sierra dropped it all down on the table, kicking a chair her wait and sitting down. It creaked feebly beneath her weight, and Sierra began to build an ice cream, with all the mechanical precision of an assembly robot and about the same level of investment.

She didn’t cry or sniffle. Her face was wet and salty, but it was just… part of the background for her.

A huge ice cream sundae before her, the memory of actually making it not even settling down into her mind, Sierra ate it. Cream and peanut butter chunks mixed wonderfully with caramel and that nice syrup that turned into a hard shell when it got cold, and it slid down her throat so _sweet._ She continued eating it, spoon ferrying more to her mouth as she blinked away tears, without her thinking about any of it or even being conscious that she was doing it to begin with.

She licked her lips and swallowed some more. It felt nice, and her spoon was making clinking noises against an empty bowl before she could even notice.

Sierra made another ice cream, and she ate that as well, and she didn’t even think about how _fast_ she ate it, how little it seemed to fill her.

Her belly felt like a limitless chasm, a painful abyss that needed to be filled up. And it hurt less thinking about that, than about anything else.

So she made another sundae.

And after that, another. And another, after _that_ one… no soda floats, no milkshakes. She wasn’t in the mood to be creative, she just wanted to stuff her face and not have to think about anything.

Pretty soon, she reached for the tub to empty in more ice cream, noting briefly that it was a lot lighter than expected. She went to just dump it in, and saw nothing but a few specks left. She carefully scooped those out with her fingers, staring at the empty carton. The urge to make poetic comparisons between her feelings and the abandoned ice cream container passed quickly enough in favor of _get more right now please._ She did so.

Fortunately her fridge was very well stocked; she was a _big_ girl, and needed a lot of feeding.

The night went by, and the ice cream went the way of all ice cream, but in a quicker way than usual.

Sierra was in no mood to think about her appetite at all, nor was she aware that much later on she would become an interesting case study for individual mutations. Eupeptic dissolving, they called it later on. Perfect digestion. Breaking down absolutely _everything_ the body ate, producing absolutely no waste and simply absorbing everything directly into the body.

That was, of course, much later.

She might have taken note of the implications of absorbing the raw material of _everything_ you ate directly, but she was unlikely to have cared much, even if she’d known.

The next day, the local stores received a very large order of food delivered to her door step. More ice cream; frozen pizzas (the good kinds, too), all kinds of easily prepared and greasy foods. Things that were filling, cooked easily, and required little effort. All prime things from someone in dire need of comfort food.

From the outside world’s point of view, that was all they heard of it.

Sierra was, for the most part, disconnected from it all. She received a few tentative messages from friends; Izzy and Leshawna, mostly. She acted a good role, pretending she was happier than she actually was, so she could be left alone. Fortunately, or not depending on your perspective, they were in other countries by now, and couldn’t possibly just pop in to check on her.

A little bit of a relief. She didn’t like the idea of anyone else just popping up. She kept checking Cody’s presence on their messenger client, but there was no word from him, from wherever he had gone.

Spotting a bit of a pot belly, pinching at her belt line, Sierra entertained herself with ore food, and cute shows, and there was a contentment in food comas and show marathons.

A few weeks passed. Hundreds of mouthfuls of food passed through Sierra’s throat, right to her belly and comforting her. Tubs of popcorn, liters of soda, big heaping bowls of ramen and soup, plates piled high with hamburgers. She devoured it all without any real thought. Her clothes began to feel increasingly tight, as those weeks progressed, and her belly protruding further, her breasts and backside more uncomfortable.

She ordered some new clothes. Much larger ones. That was the sum of her interest in the matter.

Grease and sugar and starch and other sweet, tasty things; her tongue examined them with a forensic intensity that she had otherwise always applied to her favorite shows and the sub text she read into everything in her life. It was as if, in between bouts of her staggering up to her room to check for messages from Cody (and there was none, and she didn’t have the heart to try sending any to him), her usual hyper fixation and investigative tendencies had migrated to the food that made her feel better.

Perhaps, or perhaps not. You never knew. Her taste buds _did_ show signs of greater sensitivity once she got herself checked out later, at a facility with very large doors, for whatever that was worth.

Days went on, they went around, and she didn’t really bother to mark them much.

She ate and she ate, doing her best to drown the terrible feelings of isolation, guilt and abandonment in sweet treats and greasy food. A full week passed, marked by quite a lot of food being added right to her waistline.

She noted the up and down of her depression, little more. Inclines of feeling better or at least actively terrible, pits where she felt a _lot_ worse. There wasn’t a lot of room for caring too much about technical things going on about her.

She _did_ find it uncomfortable fitting into her pant, though, eventually.

“Come on, come on…!” She stick a foot down into her old, favorite blue skinny jeans, her calf not even fitting into the thigh. Her foot dangled, awkwardly, into the knee region and making a funny lump there. “Come on, fit! Please?” She tugged it up, and squeaked with some pain when the weary fabric refused to slide any further against the increasingly plump tube of her leg below the knee.

Sierra dropped it and slumped back, with a _lot_ of wobbling movement from outlying regions. It took some time for it all to come to a stop, but she found it rather comforting in her way. She leaned over, panting, her round and plush belly pressing into thighs that had grown so large that they were pressing together even with her feet set wide apart.

She frowned faintly, looking at the floor and unable to see it. She normally couldn’t, but she was _sure_ her breasts were bigger than normal… and that was saying something. She made _Lindsay_ look petite. “Um?” Carefully, Sierra put her hands on her stomach, which were protruding slightly past the lower incline of her enlarged breasts, and tried to squeeze it in manually.

A belly, or rather a _gut_ approximately the size of a soccer ball, squeezed yieldingly around her squishy arms. Her fingers sank deep, but her attempts to vise herself into a more accommodating shape went nowhere. “Ummm!” Her fingers tapped against her stomach fretfully. It made a drumming sound.

Sierra sighed, dropping her pants entirely. In the end, she wasn’t really in the mood to care. And it wasn’t like anyone else was in the house… right? She waddled out of the room, over fifty pounds heavier than she had been even a week ago, and unlike before, it wasn’t going straight to her hips and bust.

Most people would have been, at least, _kind_ of perturbed. At least they’d do a search to find out what was going on there (or if they could make money off it, maybe). Sierra was definitely not in that group of people afficted by too much sensibility, even when she had Cody or Cameron or even Sam as a moderating presence. She was just not in the mood to think much about it.

Sierra shrugged, mumbling listlessly to herself, and stepped out of the sad circle of fabric that was her skinny jeans. Her hips moved like mountains situated on jello tectonics, and her panties were sinking deeper into her backside and that spot where her thighs joined her pelvis, the clothing disappearing from sight with each flex of her increasingly huge thighs.

She wasn’t even in a state to note that she used to be super fit, her leg muscles as clearly defined as striations in clay. Now the most you could say about her leg definition was that they had a shape. That shape was just lots of roundness, but it was a shape.

Another week passed.

She ate and ate, and every bite, every sip, every luxurious slurp emptying more liters or swallowing more mouthfuls, was going straight to her waistline.

Her body rumbled, her belly rumbling and digesting food _loudly._ Sierra periodically paused to listen to it, her stomach visibly shifting and even rippling where muscular action was grinding up chunks of food like an industry grade garbage compactor.

It felt nice. Food dissolving sweetly inside her, her gut compressing it into a fine, tasty mash, and the feeling of it sluicing away and just disappearing. The faint swell of her body packing on the pounds.

She felt her clothes creaking, and somehow, she couldn’t find it in her to care.

A faint smile to her before she remembered that this was no time to be happy about _anything;_ she returned her attention to the cartoons she was watching. Normally she might have watched reruns of the very show she had participated in, but those old memories _hurt_ now.

She leaned back. Her butt was making deep indentations into the sofa, and she now occupied a pretty large part of it. It creaked ominously when she moved, and that had just become part of the background noise to her, just like the rattle of the dozen or so bowls lying around her while she tossed back another bowl completely emptied of ramen and broth. She picked up another, this one filled with crunchy things.

She scooped a few mouthfuls out, but it wasn’t satisfying just having some mouthfuls. A strange compulsion took her, she thought _why not?_ And just opened her mouth wide, tilting the bowl downwards. It rained down, right into her mouth, a cascade of crunch, a waterfall of satisfying noises when she chewed and mostly when she swallowed.

And she gulped it with such tremendous force that her throat almost compacted the food right then and there, and it make _more_ crunching sounds. This time, a bit muffled.

“Mmm~!” She murmured, her pudgy lips curving into an irresistable smile. Her throat bulged with the weight of an entire bowlful of the… whatever it was she was eating, she hadn’t really thought to check the packaging. It slid down, greased by her ravenously produced saliva, and dropped right into her gut.

In much the same way, several kernels of something caramel-coated and salted sank into her cleavage, leaving little sugary trails behind them. They dropped as they bounced off her chubby cheeks and additional chins, like professional vaulters missing their mark. In this case, her breasts were the trampoline, and several hands-full worth of snack bits fell right into her cleavage, leaving a bit of a skin-staining mess behind. Sierra smacked her lips, licking them clean, and put the bowl down. It took her several more bowls to even notice the mess (popcorn, a homemade mess of bacon and fatty treats, a huge milkshake topped with whip cream, and a massive heap of candy). By this point the mess had gotten a lot worse, more snacks falling down into the trap of her breasts.

She’d fattened up to the point that her prodigious gut was a support for breasts now approximately larger than her head; not surprising, given the weight she was putting on. Sierra gently reached down and scooped it out, hungrily shoving the assortment of boob-snacks right back where it belonged in her mouth. It left a bit of a mess, but she didn’t really mind. She cleaned herself up later down a moment where she felt bad enough that it was a relief to just sit under a running shower for a while.

It did pinch a little fitting _into_ the shower. She noticed that, at least.

Several more weeks passed, and her gloom… did not significantly change much. It seemed that the bigger she got, the less she could really find the energy to even think much, and it wasn’t a very happy spiral for her. Eating, at least, made her feel happy.

The greasier, the more sweet, the more juicy, the better. Cheeses, candies, ice cream, milk; she liked these things best. Things that fattened, incidentally, and were perfect for a sweet tooth craving some comfort food. By this point, trucks were stopping by frequently to unload it all, and Sierra herself was a mysterious presence. No one ever actually saw her; people were paid to come in, drop off the food, and as she was in no mood to speak to anyone at all, she saw no reason to reveal herself.

There wasn’t even really shame in it. Not really. To Sierra, shame was just a really loaded word. She didn’t _care_ that her hair was a disheveled mass doing a better job of keeping her modesty than her increasingly small clothes were. She didn’t care that the floors creaked so loudly when she walked on them, and that she felt _every single inch of her_ jiggling and wobbling all over the place with every step. She didn’t even care that she had broken several chairs, and one or two doorways with her sheer mass.

For over a month she had been like this, her mutated metabolism channeling every ounce of food into pure body mass, and since she wasn’t really working out or doing much of anything, it was being shunted into pure fat. Plenty to her breasts, yes, and of course her butt, but mostly, to the places that fat always went in times like this.

Sierra sat down, and the sofa made a feeble surrendering noise as it gently folded it, crunching heavily. Fabric tore and a wood frame busted apart, and she was looking right at the ceiling after an uncertain moment of spatial confusion, her small feet pointing out from what looked like over-inflated tubes of solid fat.

She sat there, trapped for several minutes, and a lot of huffing, puffing, straining of various muscles that were still _extremely_ strong gave her just enough leverage to wedge herself up, rather like a tortoise on its back. Her gut heaved, her massive breasts felt ponderously heavy, and she just barely managed to force herself upwards. Her butt stayed stuck, but only for a moment.

_Here we go…!_

She popped up, onto her feet, and momentum being a powerful force, she was almost immediately face down. Or as close as possible, given the size of her belly, and body in general.

There came a beeping noise, cutting through to her. _A notification._ The special, happy noise she’d picked for notifications from _Cody’s messenger._

Sierra rose up far quicker than you’d expect from someone who now weighed more than an adolescent killer whale. Her muscles, as powerful as ever, were still well hidden behind over seven hundred pounds of raw fat and squishy blubber, and propelled her up to an uncertain standing position. She rose like a significantly heavier Aphrodite; her stomach was a massive flabby orb hanging down past thighs now thicker around than the average human being was wide, her breasts resembling brown watermelons with their sheer size and the way they languidly sank against her belly.

She slowly moved forward with the deliberate, inevitable slowness unique to those with slightly more mass than raw power. Hips nearly four feet across didn’t so much sashy as drift, slow and heavily, her thighs smacking against each other without even a few inches of space between her shifting legs. Eventually, she made it up the stairs, the strong wood still creaking beneath her weight, and each step was a precarious balancing issue, forcing her to swivel her hips out, and the stairway bannister buckled, s _hattered_ as her overgrown backside and hips made even small contact with. The wall indented, in much the same way, with little impact zones wherever her hips came the other way. By the fading plaster, she had done this so much she had effectively carved a little mold into the wall by now.

Frankly, it was surprising that she had _any_ clothes left, as she hurried to her room. They had been forced on, but had not stayed on, with only a few tattered scraps of fabric keeping any kind of modesty intact. And much of that was completely obscured by her rolls and swells of fat; her pants a thong-like extension of cloth swallowed up by her belly and hips and butt, and there were probably micro-bikinis offering more coverage than what her poor shirt was managing. It was astonishing that it was intact at all!

Sierra managed to get into her room, busted plaster settling into her shelf-like backside. She loomed over her computer, squinting at the screen.

A message there, from Cody. _I’m back. Gonna be at the front door in a few minutes._

Then, marked a few minutes afterwards, just one word: _Sorry._

Alarm, delight and anxiety all crowded around in her as Sierra flounced back down the stairs, not fast but still quicker than her previous tread: her thoughts moved much faster than she could move, too. _What does he mean, sorry?! Is he sorry about leaving for a while!? Is he… oh no, oh no, oh NO, is he breaking up with me!? Oh noooo… what do I do, what do I say?_

For the first time in a while, Sierra took note of herself, glancing downwards at a sea of dark brown skin almost completely on display, a belly large enough to serve as a mini-bed for someone Cody’s size. Her breasts hanging low, almost spread out, and her hair fountaining down all around her, offering more coverage than her actual clothes.

She waved enormous arms so blobby and thick that they were more like fatty tubes, her hands comically tiny poking out of all that mass. “Oh no, oh no,” she whimpered softly. “What do I do…?”

There came a knock at the door and she almost jumped, which caused a fairly loud jolt as she hit the ground. There was a brief pause, confusion almost palpable from the other side of the door, and the door unlocked. Sierra squeaked and retreated, ducking into the kitchen, where she felt a little more secure.

Cody opened the door, stepping in. He closed it behind him and did a double take at all the broken chairs, the busted bumps in the wall, and the bits of stair railing lying on the ground. “Um… Sierra?” he called out, worry curdling his tone. “Are you home…?”

“In here,” she said from the kitchen, hiding beside the open doorway, too afraid to move out from it.

“Oh, _good!_ ” he sighed in relief. “Um. Did… something happen around here? Everything’s busted up!”

“Nothing happened!” Sierra squeaked. She tried not to think about her awareness of her own… _girth. “_ Nothing at all, everything is fine forever!”

Cody followed her voice. “You sound a little different. Did your voice get a bit deeper?” He walked into the kitchen and Sierra shirked away as gently and, above all, silently as she possibly could. “Okay, _wow,_ it is a mess in here.” He stared at the huge, very full garbage cans. “Oh… Sierra… I’m sorry…”

She shifted, extremely slightly, just enough for the lingering fabric of her clothes to squeak in protest.

Cody turned - _oh no no no!_ Sierra thought desperately - and stopped. Slowly his eyes widened, very slightly, as his head tilted up as he took her in, as well as the significant chunk of wall she was obscuring.

There was a long pause.

She stared blankly at him, her big purple hair poof dangling over one eye and messing up her vision a little. “Um.”

Cody opened his mouth. He started to say something, and stopped. His mouth remained open. Eventually he managed to close it, and blurted out, “Sierra, _what the-_ ”

“I can explain!” she said, waving her hands hurriedly, arms jiggling. She felt keenly aware of how _bulky_ she was, for the first time in a while. A sense of things getting back to normal put some steel into her spine, and at the same time, she couldn’t help but think that she was very much not like she used to be.

Reality asserted itself, for her. And it was starting to dawn on her that her body, for a while just a mere background detail in her funk, was _not_ the way he remembered it.

His mouth dropped again, a faint blush as he took in just how much of her was on display - if you didn’t pay attention to the bits of yellow and blue fabrics, you might think she was actually naked - and how… _much_ of her there was. “You’re bigger,” he managed to say, looking extremely sheepish.

The sheer banality of this didn’t seem to mean much to her. She wiggled a fat finger around a stray lock of thick, chunky hair. It glinted magenta in the light. The first thought that popped into her head was an extremely alarming one, as she felt very conscious of how enormously fat she had become. The air felt chilly, accusing, against every additional inch and foot she had gained outwards. _WHAT IF HE DIDN’T LIKE HER NOW._ “You don’t mind… do you?”

An edge of desperation put her voice a few pitches higher.

Cody took a few steps forward, as if hypnotized. An entomologist spotting a very rare species of Explosive Grenade Beetle might walk in a similar way, heedless and inquisitive. He disappeared from sight for her; she was more than a foot taller than him, and with her belly grown out so far, he was well beneath its curve, impossible for Sierra to see. She did feel his hand briefly brush up against her stomach, pale against the deep richness of her skin tone, and then jerk away.

“Oh geez!... I didn’t mean to, uh, invade like that!” he stepped away, her belly still jiggling from even that tiny contact.

And she felt _really_ warm, where he had patted her.

Feeling a slight turn in things, Sierra stepped forward, sensing a strange kind of power here. “Cody!” She said warmly, her arms out. She smiled, with just a hint of impishness, and she sought to put herself into the kind of persona she thought the situation demanded. “Don’t tell me…”

Her tone took on a more mischievous edge she’d studied Izzy’s speaking patterns to get _just_ right.

“You like bigger girls?”

Cody stared up at her, his eyes big and wide and bright. He took her all in, every single inch of how much she’d grown; her rolls of side-fat, her absolutely enormous belly (it felt like it was bigger than _him!_ ), her huge boobs, her even chubbier face nesting within a base of chins, limbs so corpulent it looked like she should have squeaked when she moved…

He looked down, blushing, his fingers wiggling against each other. “Maybe?” he said quietly, staring right at the ground and his face bright red.

Her hands picked him up, tugging him right across her huge gut. Even as he started to sink in, she pulled him right between her boobs and all the way to her face, and planted a huge kiss right on his mouth. He settled into it agreeably, sinking into her soft, huge body, until it seemed that he might disappear from sight.

Another week passed for them, as they settled back into things, and figured things out.

(“It’s not that I was mad at you, really?” Cody told her the next morning once he got the nerve to admit to why he left for a while. “I just needed some space to think about things.”

She wiggled her feet beneath the table, and it creaked beneath the weight of the six course meal she considered a light snack now. “You really mean that?” Her forehead creased with chronic self-doubt and anxiety. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel okay? But in the message, you said you were sorry! I thought… you wanted to break….” she trailed off.

“You what?! Oh, oh no!” he slumped forward, sighing. “Oh geez, I should have worded that better. I meant that I was sorry for making you worry… really!” He put a hand on his forehead. “Man, I really need to think these things out in advance.”

“I think we both do,” Sierra admitted, poking at her belly.)

Not long after that, they got her up to a specialist in transformations like what she had gone through, and that was how they learned of her strange matter assimilation trick. Not so much digesting food as just… absorbing it entirely. It was there she and Cody learned that she _had_ been mutated during the All-Stars season on the Show, if very mildly. Her digestive processes had altered to be far more efficient, converting the mass of the things she ate into pure potential body mass. In her case, mostly fat due to her inactivity, though it also went into restructuring her body to adjust for her new shape; stronger muscles to work all that fat, much tougher bones, and so forth.

It couldn’t be reversed, they said, but the right kind of workouts and exercise could rearrange her figure into something more like what she used to look like.

She saw the way Cody was looking at her, with such open… _admiration_ in his eyes. She demurred, and privately thought that she _liked_ being big and soft like this.

And so a new routine emerged, pretty much the same as when he was gone. But with a slight twist:

Cody sat beside her, like a tugboat next to a cruise liner, great massive bowls heaped high with food in front of him, some of them large enough for him to sit in. The table, and the chairs, were specially reinforced to accomodate someone _really_ big. He selected a burger from a pile of the like, big and greasy and with those slightly burned bits, cheese almost dripping off it.

Sierra leaned forwards, eyes closed and mouth wide. He gently pushed the burger into her mouth and she savored it, chewing with obvious relish. She wasn’t speed-eating to soothe herself now, but enjoying an activity with a partner. She still ate it far faster than a normal person would, and eventually it disappeared into her mouth. She swallowed, with a peckish gulp, and he wiped off some of the grease on her lips.

“You're a messy eater,” he said gently.

She giggled, opening her mouth again and pointing hopefully in.

He fed her another burger, and another. They went down all the same, her enthusiasm for the greasy treats not dimming in the slightest even as the bowl was completely emptied. Each one, he cleaned up after her, just like one of those little birds that orbited crocodiles and kept them tidy.

Next game the mashed potatoes, with a big helping of butter and cream. He spoon fed her this, with a very large spoon, so large he actually needed both hands to carry the dang thing! He trembled a bit as he felt the power of her throat gulps cleaning the spoon off with each slurp. It felt like an engine revving, up, in fact! Eventually she got impatient with the slow pace and, with a small apology, picked up the bowl and just tipped it into her mouth, gulping down the entire contents.

Next came a huge helping of french fries, and she curbed her appetite _just_ enough to give him his fill of those. It was a real strain for her, too, but she liked to think he didn’t realize just how much she really wanted to eat _all_ of it.

He fed her the other bowls, one after another, sweet and slow and doing his best to keep up with her frenzied hunger-pace. Soon, they were all emptied, over the course of about an hour and a half, a full six courses furiously devoured.

She smacked her lips with relish, still wanting _more,_ and Cody was happy to oblige her. He glanced backwards, smiling at how much _bigger_ she was getting. He had liked her when she was a curvy lady, and he liked her even more now that she was hyper fat!

Her belly gurgled _loud,_ and she blew a kiss at him as he paused. “It’s okay if you want to come feel it!” She said, beckoning him forwards, and he eagerly came over, kneeling down and laying his head against her stomach. He sank down, as if into quicksand, and the gurgling rumbled around him so that it was the only thing he could hear. The rough noise of all that food being broken down and absorbed into her body, and the faint warmth as she started to get even heavier from it.

The weeks passed, this new routine established itself, and more and more, she got _bigger._

Quite a lot bigger, in fact, to the point that if you counted raw mass rather than height, Dakota’s mutant form was no longer the biggest person to have participated in the Show. Sierra soon outweighed her by a massive amount.

Once this routine was fully established and Sierra’s growth very gradually started to peter out, it took some doing to locate a scale actually capable of handling her weight. Normal scales broke when her toes so much as descended upon them. Scales for mutant creatures, and livestock, didn’t really accomodate a human shape - even if Sierra was coming to distort the idea of a ‘human shape’, so to speak. They had to have one custom-built for them, by Cameron too. He didn’t ask questions, finding that where Sierra was concerned, it was best to just roll with it.

And when the day came that her growth finally seemed to have stabilized, and Sierra stepped onto it and waited for the _ding_ of a final weight recording, she stood there awkwardly, anxious. She had to have it in the middle of the floor, otherwise her belly and butt would press into the walls and maybe get caught on something, interfering with the results.

It went _ding._

“What’s it say?!” She asked, tapping her hands anxiously on her stomach, sending ripples up and down her form; it was hard to tell, beneath the flowery and massive dress she’d had designed to fit her body, but still, there was a lot of her to jiggle.

Cody was bent beneath her, looking positively stick thin by her slightly warped standards now. He was more than a little spooked to be beneath so much… well, _Sierra,_ but he got around it by just laying flat on the ground and squinting in her shadow at the read out.

“According to this,” he said, with a flair for dramatic emphasis. “You’re currently weighting a little over half a ton!”

She did the math real quick. “Um, let me see. That means, uh…” Her lips moved, smacking against each other unconsciously. “I’m… over a thousand pounds?!”

“Yeah!” He said, with more than a little strictly unnecessary enthusiasm.

“... _I’m so BIG!_ ” she squealed, delighted, waddling backward and jiggling from every inch, from her bloated neck all the way down to her pudgy toes.

Broadly, she had the same shape she had when Cody had returned, but there was… well, a _lot_ more of it. She had even grown significantly taller, gaining more than a foot in height so that she was now a little past eight feet tall. Apparently that mass was going at least partially to her bones, which had been transforming in order to adapt to her new weight and size. Possibly she might get taller in the future, but if she was, it had slowed down to minute gains; she hadn’t grown any taller of late, since stabilizing into her current shape.

Her stomach now went past her knees; rather flabby, true, but twice as round as it had been, a soft and still firm mass protruding outwards, her navel a deep sinkhole creasing the entire front hemisphere of her gut. Her belly even looked bigger than the rest of her, and that was saying a _lot._

Her hips, on full display as she waddled about with a little happy dance that made the floor quake - _and,_ she moved just as easily as she had done before, if not quite as fast, a sign her body had fully adjusted to the change - were wider than the average person was tall, perhaps in order to pack as much mass as possible between them. Great mounds of fat, huge pocket-tier rolls made up the space from her sides and back that weren’t occupied by stomach, and her butt had grown even bigger, though not distressingly so. It did make finding suitable chairs a real problem.

Her thighs were now so massive that they were essentially tubes; the best you could say about her knees was that they were probably in there, somewhere, beneath all that massive fat. Even stepping her stride as far as she was now, their sides were still touching. Granted, when they individually carried more pounds than you got in Cody’s entire body, multiplied twice, that wasn’t too surprising!

Her breasts, supported by a discreet built-in bra of her dress, were also pretty dang big, now certainly eclipsing the rank of ‘watermelon’, but still within the realm of possibility for people. Her huge gut gave them a lot of support, and Cody found himself between them more often than not. Sierra was a hugger, and a maternal sort too. It was just how things went.

And her face, nestled between her chubby neck and her heavy hair, was a cherubic beacon of adorable fatty cuteness, kissable soft lips _much_ larger than a normal person could develop. Her eyes were permanently crinkled in an expression of good cheer, and she just looked constantly… super happy, just by the way her face was being shaped.

This wasn’t too far from the truth.

Delighted in the knowledge that this was how she would look now, Sierra happily scooped Cody right off the ground, eclipsing him before she even got close, and sandwiched him into a huge hug. Her lips met his face, in a big, sloppy kiss. He giggled and blush as she smothered him in smooches, and hugged him tighter still.

He sank into over half a ton of long-haul girlfriend material, letting Sierra just smother him in affection, and he kissed her back, warm at the feeling of so much… _Sierra_ around him, just completely engulfing him.

HE didn’t know if he would have left to begin with, even if she turned out so _pretty_ (from his perspective, at least, and her own), after she had been so devastated by it, and it felt mean to think he was glad he’d done it, but…

Well, she was happier now, she was a lot more relaxed and easygoing, and things felt _chill_ now, every bit as smooth and soft as her body had become.

All in all, he supposed, that was a good enough way for things to work out.


End file.
